


Forty-six

by aries_taurus



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Child Murder, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Murder-Suicide, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, based on real life events, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-18 00:56:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19966078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aries_taurus/pseuds/aries_taurus
Summary: He starts with the door on the right.He doesn’t remember going into the room on the left but he remembers both children.He doesn’t remember screaming.He doesn’t remember Steve finding him in the house, taking him out of there.He only remembers a number.46.





	Forty-six

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts on Tumblr to get me out of my writer's block and offered at least 500 words in exchange.   
> I received this anon ask: Prompt thingy: What would make Danny quit Five-0, or retire altogether?
> 
> I thought the only thing that would make Danny quit or retire would be something involving kids. Here in Quebec, we had this horrific murder of two children, 10 years ago, which came back to the headlines last week, when the responding officer, Partick Bigras, committed suicide.
> 
> I decided to use the case as inspiration. It's not exactly that story mainly because I wanted to kill the bastard who did it in my story because I could do that. 
> 
> See at the end for more details on the case, and on Officer Bigras.
> 
> ***** WARNING WARNING WARNING EXTREMELY DARK. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. WARNING WARNING WARNING*****

* * *

It’s the screaming that wakes Danny up. It’s the kind of screaming that makes his hair stand up and his gut clench and makes him take his gun out of his holster but when he realizes it wasn’t in a nightmare and that the screams are real, coming from the house across the street…

“Danno?” Charlie’s small voice comes from the door.

He looks up, and both children are there, looking terrified. They heard the screams too.

He stands grabbing a shirt, slipping it over his head.

“Stay inside,” he tells Grace. “Don’t come outside till I get back,” he tells her, his voice stern, as he slips on his jeans and quickly shoves his feet into shoes and grabs his gun, badge and cell phone.

When he gets outside, all his neighbours are standing in the street in their night clothes, looking between him and the house across the street, waiting.

“Go back inside,” he tells them. “Mrs. Larson,” he says, looking at his immediate right door neighbour. “Call 9-1-1. Tell them that Detective Williams, 5-0, is reporting a possible 10-16 at this address and to send a couple units and to have Commander McGarrett meet me here.”

He doesn’t watch her do it, knowing she will. He crosses the street and approaches the Truman house. The screaming’s stopped but door is slightly ajar. Danny calls out, announces himself, trying to remember the names of the couple. He knows they have two young kids, preschool age, knows that Grace babysat for them a couple times but he can’t recall their names. They’re not the friendliest of the neighborhood. Guy’s a doctor, never around. He’s seen a nanny around, he’s pretty sure. He hasn’t seen the wife in a while, wonders if there’s trouble there and if this is that.

Getting no answer, he pushes in the open door all the way and steps into the dark house and he knows immediately that something bad’s happened.

The smell of blood is thick in the air, overwhelming.

Danny steels himself, takes a deep breath, and starts clearing the house.

The living room and kitchen are clear, and so’s the rest of the first floor.

He climbs the stairs carefully slowly, heart pounding in his chest, knowing what he’ll find before he reaches the landing.

Truman’s there, in the middle of the landing drenched in blood, a butcher’s knife clutched in his hand. His wife, a blonde, petite woman, is draped over his lap, rivers of blood flowing from everywhere, stab wounds too numerous to count, skin stark white against the red. Danny doesn’t need to feel her pulse to know she’s dead.

“Drop the knife!” Danny shouts, pointing his gun squarely at Truman’s chest.

Truman laughs thinly. “She’ll never have them. I took them. I took them so they’ll never be hers!”

“What?”

Before Danny can figure out what Truman’s rambling about, he raises the knife and plunges it deep in his own abdomen.

“Fuck!” Danny screams. He drops his gun and launches himself at Truman but he’s too late. Truman’s already pulled the knife out, blood gushing out of the self-inflicted wound. Truman slowly drops to the floor, still under his bloodied, murdered wife’s body as he bleeds out.

“No one will have them now,” he whispers. “No one.”

Danny’s about to try and put pressure on the wound when Truman goes still, but that when his words hit his brain.

Them.

The children.

He stands and grabs his gun, puts it in the back of his pants and looks around him.

Three doors.

Three bedrooms. Two children’s rooms, with the doors closed. A master suite.

He starts with the door on the right.

He doesn’t remember going into the room on the left but he remembers both children.

He doesn’t remember screaming.

He doesn’t remember Steve finding him in the house, taking him out of there.

He only remembers a number.

46.

He doesn’t know how he knows; doesn’t know if he counted or if they told him.

But he knows the children were stabbed 46 times.

But he knows he can’t go back.

To Five-0. To HPD. To any of it.

Steve understands, of course he does.

That day changed Steve too.

So they retire. They travel a lot at first.

Because Danny needs to get away. Because he can’t forget. Can’t unsee.

It eats at his soul. Every day.

Right across the street.

3 years old.

5 years old.

46 times.

For years.

It eats at him.

Until it’s all he can see.

Until he wants to end it all too.

But Steve’s there.

Grace is there.

Charlie is there.

Reminding him what there is to live for.

And one day, his grandson is born. And there’s a little less blood.

And a little more hope.

**Author's Note:**

> So, as I mentioned in the beginning, this story is based on a real life case in Quebec, the Guy Turcotte murders, and story is dedicated to officer Patrick Bigras, SQ badge number 13049. He committed suicide last Friday. He was first on scene of the killings of the Guy Turcotte murders in 2009, Turcotte was a Quebec cardiologist who murdered his two children by stabbing them 46 times, a girl 3 years old and a boy of 5 Both showed defensive wounds, meaning he did nothing to prevent their suffering when he decided to murder them. He then “tried” to commit suicide by drinking 3 sips of windshield washer fluid. The first trial found him not guilty by reason of mental disease or defect but there was such an uproar and so many judicial errors a second trial was ordered. He’s now serving 17 years for two counts or 2nd degree murder. His ex wife wasn’t there and survived the whole sordid affair.


End file.
